Sooner or Later
by overtlycovert
Summary: It all began with what seemed to be just another routine check-up. What Emma has been up to since Bad Reputation. Will and Emma plus Mr. Toothy, with appearances by the glee kids and our favorite Cheerios coach.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I missed Emma. But apparently, she'd rather hang around with those imaginary blue things (and NPH) instead of spending some happy time with Will. Haha, but who am I kidding. I love the smurfs and I can't wait to see her in it. **

**This was written before Journey aired btw. It was meant to be posted earlier but my PC screwed up on me.  
**

* * *

Emma squinted as bright light flooded her vision.

"Sorry about that," a man clad in a white coat quickly apologized as he readjusted the overhead lamp.

He then reached for a pair of gloves, which he put on a little too enthusiastically. Emma smiled- he'd told her once that his favorite part of the job was snapping on the latex. After making sure that he had worn it properly, he turned to her again, a scalpel now in hand.

"Open up," he instructed her, almost mechanically.

Emma complied, opening her mouth as wide as she could. For the next few minutes, the dentist probed her mouth with an array of tools set on the nearby tray. As she felt that familiar feeling of cold metal brushing against her gums and teeth, her mind began to wander off.

With everything that had happened to her over the past weeks, her appointment with Dr. Howell was the last thing on her mind. In fact, if she hadn't come across those crazed fans of that vampire novel that morning, she would've completely forgotten all about it. One look at their faux fangs was enough of a reminder for her. She never would've imagined that their obsession actually had some advantages.

"Oh dear."

Howell's remark instantly snapped her out of her reverie. She would have asked him what was wrong, if his hand wasn't stuck down her throat. She waited nervously for what he had to say next.

"Hmm. This is bad."

His next statement only aggravated her anxiety. All she could do was watch in horror as Howell continued to examine her, his brows furrowed and his head shaking every now and then. She wasted no time when she finally had the chance to speak up. "What's wrong?"

"It appears that you have some plaque build-up. It's only a matter of time before cavities start caving in," he explained to her matter-of-factly.

Disbelief quickly surfaced on Emma's features. "How is that possible? I-I brush and floss before and after every meal and-"

Emma's sentence was cut off when Howell, much to her confusion, began to laugh. Just as she was about to ask what was so funny about her teeth about to get rotten down the core, he stopped and flashed her one of his award-winning smiles. "I kid, I kid. Your pearly whites are in perfect condition, as always," he informed her, putting emphasis on the last two words.

"Gosh, doc. You really scared me," Emma confessed before breathing a sigh of relief.

"Really, Emma. I don't see why you need to come visit me for a check-up every month when you take such excellent care of your teeth. Not that I don't appreciate you dropping by, of course," he told her as he disposed of his gloves and put his tools back in place.

"You know how much I value oral hygiene," Emma reasoned. He couldn't agree more.

"Yes. For two years now actually," Howell pointed out in amusement, letting out a short laugh afterwards. She had always been one of his best clients. A wistful air surrounded him as his mind drifted back to their first meeting. "Isn't it amazing how fast time goes by? It seems like yesterday when you first waltzed into my office…," he trailed off, bringing his contemplation to a close after seeing Emma's reaction.

It was now his turn to be puzzled. Instead of the nostalgic remark that he expected, she just looked at him, her eyes registering no particular emotion. It was his first time to see the fragile-looking ginger in such an intense state and he found this very unsettling. The atmosphere lifted partly when Emma sat upright from her reclining position, of which she'd remained unmoved for what appeared like an eternity to him.

"Are you all right Doctor Howell?" she finally asked, her gaze softening.

He stared at her for a moment before setting his eyes down on the floor. Emma took this as an answer to her question.

"I understand if you'd, um, prefer not to tell me but it'll make you feel better if you talk about it," she prodded, trying her best not to be too intrusive.

"No, no. It's ok," Howell assured her, taking a deep breath shortly afterwards. "I'm curious, though. How did you know that something was bothering me?"

"Your palms. They were, uh, mostly closed since I got here," Emma explained, pointing at his hands which were indeed closed. "Closed palms are usually a sign that something is troubling a person," she continued after noting that his puzzled expression was unchanged.

Howell chuckled bitterly, in an attempt to lighten the mood. "I almost forgot you are a shrink."

"So, uh, what's going on?" Emma began, moving towards the edge of the dental chair so that she could face him directly.

Howell sighed. "This may be your last visit," he put it bluntly.

"What do you mean?"

"My landlord threatened to kick me out if I don't pay up at the end of the month," Howell admitted, taking a seat on a nearby stool. He figured that there was no use beating around the bush. She was going to find out eventually anyway.

"How much do you owe him exactly?"

"Just two months worth of rent," he answered, pausing briefly to glance at the calendar. "Three in a week."

"Gosh, that is a problem. I'm very sorry to hear about that," she expressed her sympathy.

Howell shook his head. "No, don't be. Keeping a dental office is rather draining on one's wallet. It was bound to happen sooner or later," he told her, keeping a practical view on the subject. Really, he didn't deserve her pity.

"Ok, well, um, why not move to another location? One that's more affordable," Emma suggested after a moment of thought.

"I've been looking, but I haven't had much luck. Those that do fit into my budget are too small and such," he negated, quickly crossing out the option.

Undaunted, Emma tried suggesting other alternatives. None of them could get the money he needed in time though. She was running out of ideas, but she continued to think up of new ones anyway, as she felt obliged to help him out. She had seen the passion he had for his work and it would be a shame to put an end to it so soon. Finally, just as she was about to give up, an answer finally hit her. "Wait! I think we have a job opening at McKinley. You could, um, work part-time. The pay's not stellar, but it'll be enough to pay off all your debts."

He said nothing, but a glint of hope surfaced on his blue eyes. As much as she wanted to help the guy out, she also didn't want him to bear false hope. "I'd have to inquire with Principal Figgins first, but with your credentials, I'm sure they'll hire you right away," she continued, keeping her optimism.

Howell remained speechless, as though he was still letting the good news sink in. When it finally did, he couldn't contain his happiness any longer. He leaned forward and gave her a hug, which she promptly returned. Normally, she would've avoided such close contact. She figured that her therapy must be working.

"God, thank you Emma. I owe you one. A huge one at that," he thanked her.

"You don't owe me anything doc. I'm glad to help," she assured him as he pulled back and straightened his outfit.

There was a question that lingered on the dentist's mind, but he was unsure if he needed to know the answer or not. In the end though, curiosity got the better of him. "What happened to the old dentist, if I may ask?"

"He, uh, hanged himself," she answered uncomfortably.

Howell didn't seem to be the least bit bothered by it. "Well, in the medical profession, dentists do have the highest number of suicide rates," he informed her.

"Oh. How…interesting," Emma muttered, for a lack of better reply.

A brief silence settled between them until Howell stood up to break the awkward air. "So I'll see you on Monday then," he clarified, in an attempt to get her mind off his earlier comment. The last thing he wanted was for Emma to tag him as an unfeeling robot with suicidal tendencies.

Emma nodded, her uneasiness gone. "Yeah. Monday. Let's hope for the best."

"Agreed."

Emma grabbed her purse and made her way towards the door. She was about to turn the knob when Howell stopped her in her tracks. "Oh, and Emma?"

Emma paused mid-step and looked over her shoulder, waiting for what he had to say.

"Enough of the formality. Call me Carl."

"All right, then. Carl it is."

They exchanged smiles one last time before she turned on her heel and walked out of his office.

The satisfaction Emma gets whenever she made someone's day filled her system. It was her natural high, so to speak. For once she felt great and it showed. Yet just when she thought nothing could ruin the moment, an all-too-familiar face came into view.

"Hey," Will greeted, unaware of how his presence overwhelmed her.

"Hey," she greeted back, forcing a smile. It was a real effort for her, seeing how the mere sight of him broke her heart into pieces. But when he returned the gesture, her heart fluttered once more, as though it had never been broken in the first place. Emma was confused; she decided to move away before things got too uncomfortable. She proceeded to the receptionist to pay.

In reality, she was only a meter away. But to Will, they were worlds apart. Since the faculty break room fiasco, their interaction had been limited to awkward glances and the occasional exchange about school activities or some other mundane topic. He surely wasn't about to let this opportunity pass. "I didn't know that Dr. Howell was your dentist," Will began, setting the magazine he'd been reading back on the table.

"Same here," she said without looking at him.

Will was determined to keep the conversation going at any cost. "He's really good. You know, with teeth and stuff."

"Yeah. Definitely. He handles his tools quite well," Emma replied while handing some crisp bills to the woman behind the desk.

She turned to face him after gathering her change. "So, I better get going. I still have some, uh, counseling stuff to take care of."

"The kids were dismissed two hours ago," Will simply said, not buying her excuse one bit.

"It's a house call," she lied.

Will saw through her pretenses, but he decided to let this one slide. "Oh. Well, good luck."

"Thanks Will." She gave him another smile, sincere this time. The gentleman that Will was, she was more than thankful that he respected her space, that she wasn't ready to let him back in just yet. She looked at him one last time before giving his shoulder a light squeeze and heading towards the door.

Will raised his hand and waved goodbye, even though she already had her backed turned. He watched silently as she walked off, until completely disappearing from sight when she rounded the corner. But even then, he could still hear the clacking of her trademark Mary Janes against the floor, which grew fainter and fainter as time passed.

As Emma stepped inside her car, one thing was clear: she loved Will and she still does. But she wasn't exactly sure if he loved her just as much.

Back in the waiting room, Will was brought back to his senses when the receptionist cleared her throat. Apparently, he spaced out so much that Dr. Howell had to come out of his office to see what was taking his next patient so long. He mumbled his apologies to the woman before heading towards the dentist's office.

"You and Emma know each other?" Howell asked, noting their earlier exchange that he witnessed. "You seem awfully close."

"Yeah, we work together," Will said, meaning it in more ways than one.

"She's very nice. A little bit on the quirky side, but that makes her all the more interesting."

"I know. She's an angel."

From the start, Will knew exactly where their conversation was headed- it wasn't a surprise when he finally dropped the question. "You think she's seeing anyone?" Howell asked casually, a grin drawn on his lips.

"Not recently," he replied, trying to keep his tone as casual as the dentist.

"I pity the jerk who let go of a woman like that," Howell remarked after a slight pause, his words marked with sympathy.

"Yeah. What a jerk," Will agreed, his weak tone an understatement to how strongly he felt about it.

Howell went on to discuss about the new teeth whitening procedure he scheduled, but he couldn't really care less. He was a jerk and he knew it. All he wanted was to set things right and win Emma back no matter what.

* * *

**I don't know about you guys, but I'm still disappointed about the name choice. I mean, come on! Carl Howell? Our specced name Charles Cadwell sounds waaaaay better in my opinion. CadBury owns CarMa. XDD And please don't get me started on who they cast.  
**

**Anyways, I'm not sure if I should just keep this as a oneshot or not, so do tell me what you think. Reviews are like crack to me. :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful feedback everyone! Because of the great response, I've decided to continue on with my story. Special thanks to QueenOfTheButterflies for sharing her ideas for the later chapters. If you have some suggestions yourself, feel free to drop a line. I'll give you credit if I use them, of course. I may need a beta soon too...**

**Now without further ado, here is Laryngitis WITH Emma.**

* * *

When Emma got home that night, she went straight to bed. She was lost, confused. Her dreamland offered a temporary escape from the world. She knew that it was wrong, telling kids to face their problems head on while she herself chose to get around them instead. But she was in no mood to care about not following her own advice. She needed a refuge and sleeping on it was the only thing that could provide her that.

She woke up sometime around half-past eleven. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten dinner yet. It was already late and she had no appetite, though. Since her earlier bedtime meant that she wouldn't be able to drift back to sleep easily, she figured that she could use her time productively by preparing for the day ahead. She walked over to her closet, whose drawers and compartments she scanned for pieces that she'd wear.

Emma was a woman who based her wardrobe on her current disposition. On that particular night, she was feeling rather helpless. What she needed was something strong and bold to counter the negative vibes. In the end, she settled for a red sleeveless top matched with a pencil skirt and a pair of Mary Janes of the same color. This decision she'd regret in a few hours time when she finds out that Will is also wearing red, which she'd later convince herself as a mere coincidence.

Contented with her choice, she took them out and hung them on the handles of her dresser. Just as she was about to close the doors, something gray caught her eye. It was buried beneath one of the many neatly-stacked piles of clothes. Its dull hue stood out from her otherwise rainbow-like ensemble. Curious, she pulled it out. It was a shirt, an oversize one at that.

Emma drew the piece of clothing closer to her, placing it against her face. Her eyes closed as a distinct scent, _his_ distinct scent, overwhelmed her. It was intoxicating, that single whiff which sent her back to happier times. It was Will who gave it to her, after Puck mistook her for a student and hurled one of those iced beverages at her.

She remembered that day all too well. Her hair was sticky, her clothes were wet and her body reeked of the sweet-smelling drink; she had never felt so humiliated in her life. She had been given a slushie facial, she'd later learn. She actually pondered on quitting as she walked down the halls. Luckily, a certain Spanish teacher was walking by at the time. The thought of seeing that dreamy man everyday alone was more than enough to change her mind. He helped her clean the gunk off and insisted that she keep the spare shirt he lent her, even though it didn't really match her outfit. That was two years ago, on her first day at the job, when she proved that love can happen at first sight.

With a nostalgic smile, she took off the dress she wore and put the shirt on, the fabric clinging loosely to her petite form. It was three sizes big but to her it fit just right. She then took a brief moment to look at herself in the mirror before crawling back to bed. For the first time in days, she was able to sleep soundly.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Emma blinked as her attention was brought back to the distraught student sitting in front of her. "Why, of course, uh, Rachel. It's my job," she tried to assure her, nodding a few times to make herself appear more convincing. As much as she hated lying, she had no choice. It wasn't that she had no interest; it was quite the opposite, actually. It was just that if she admitted that she had something else on her mind, then their conversation would most likely evolve around it instead. This was supposed to be about Rachel's problem, not hers.

Seemingly satisfied with her answer, the glee-clubber continued talking while Emma's thoughts drifted back to a particular dentist.

"I am nothing without my voice," Rachel concluded not long after, her gravelly voice making her feel even more miserable. She believed that the doe-eyed guidance counselor can offer her a more optimistic view of her situation. Her advice may at times be impractical, but they never fail to make her feel more at ease.

Emma cleared her throat as she clasped her hands on top of her table. "Well, um, I don't think I have a pamphlet for that. You said you have tonsillitis, am I correct?" she asked, hoping that she heard her right. She felt relieved when Rachel nodded. "I'm not a doctor, but I'm sure that this will only last for a few days, depending on how fast your body can fight those, uh, nasty germs. You'll be singing again in no time," she then continued, more than glad that she attended that PTA seminar on respiratory diseases.

"No offense Miss Pillsbury, but I know our biology lectures down to the letter. What I'm concerned about is how it might affect the quality of my singing. As you know, regionals are coming up and we don't stand a chance of winning without my vocal prowess," Rachel clarified, her growing distress evident on her features.

"As I've said, I'm no doctor, so I can't really give an answer to that. All I can say is…," Emma trailed off as she caught sight of Howell standing outside. "Doctor Howell," she mumbled his name absentmindedly, much to Rachel's confusion. She was just about to ask who exactly the man was when Emma excused herself and walked out of the room.

"Doctor Howell," she called his attention. He looked at her for a moment, his usually vibrant eyes dull and listless, before setting his gaze back down. At first she was confused. The only reason he would react that way was if Figgins rejected his application. This to her was very unlikely, given that the school wasn't really picky when it came to applicants. Brenda Castle was a fine example of that, an astronomy teacher turned badminton coach. Luckily, it didn't take long before she thought she figured it out. "Sorry, I mean, Carl. How did it go?"

"The principal told me that I wasn't qualified for the job," he answered, his eyes still fixed on the floor.

A slew of emotions overwhelmed her instantly. But she was angry, for the most part. "Seriously? Carl, you're more qualified than half of the people working here," she exclaimed, her voice raised. Startled by her rather strong reaction, Howell took a step back. "I'm going to have a little talk with Figgins later."

He shook his head. "You don't need to," he differed, his voice trembling a little.

"But how are you going to pay off your rent?" she argued in the same high-pitched tone. It was a mystery to her how the guy could just stand there so calmly when he was about to lose his career. He should've been panicking. He should've been back at the principal's office to prove just how qualified he was. He should've been at least showing the slightest sign of concern.

By this time Howell had regained his composure. "With the money I'll be getting working part-time here in McKinley, of course," he replied, as though the answer was very obvious.

"I thought you said that-"

"You didn't let me finish. I wasn't qualified- I was overqualified. He didn't even look at my resume. He even said that I could work as long as I'd like. I told him I won't, though, as I'm sure there are other people who need this job more than I do," he explained to her, his confident air back.

A brief silence settled between them. She was supposed to be angry. How dare he play with her emotions like that? Yet oddly enough, she wasn't. Her mind told her that it was her fault, falling for the same trick twice. She knew that she should've seen it coming. "You've got to stop doing that," was all she could say.

"Doing what?" Howell asked, although he knew exactly what she was talking about.

"You know. Making me fluster on purpose."

"I can't help it Emma. You look so adorable when you're nervous," he admitted, his words sending her back to a particular moment when Will told her just that. The scene played in her mind. They have only started dating back then, oblivious to the reality of their situation: he was still married and she had just been left by her fiancé. It was wrong and yet it didn't seem to matter at the time. "So how about it? Seven tonight?"

His question snapped her out of her trance. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Dinner. My treat. I'll pick you up at your place," he repeated all the pertinent details.

"I don't know…"

"Come on. It's the least I can do, especially after all that I put you through just now," he insisted, far from willing to give up his cause.

"I told you, Carl, you don't owe me anything," she quickly assured him.

"Don't owe you anything? You just saved me from living the rest of my life in a cardboard box! Please, Emma," he pleaded, looking at her straight in the eye. "You can think of it as a personal favor, if you want."

He seemed so desperate. And she didn't have any plans for the night anyway. She figured that there was nothing to lose. "Okay. I'll go," she agreed a little too quickly.

A huge grin flashed on his face the moment he heard her approval. "I promise you won't regret it," he guaranteed her before heading towards the opposite direction.

He had already taken a few steps when a thought suddenly hit her. "Wait, aren't you going to write down my address?"

"I'm your dentist remember? It's on that information sheet you filled up yourself in my office," he reminded her over his shoulder.

"Right, right. See you later, then," she bade him goodbye. She watched him for a second as he disappeared into the hallways. If she had not spotted Finn walking amongst the crowd, she would've completely forgotten about her unfinished counseling session.

"I thought you've forgotten about me," Rachel said as she finally entered the room.

"I'm sorry Rachel. I just had some, uh, matters to take care of," she explained while taking her seat. She then took a deep breath before going back to what she was saying earlier. "You are a very great person Rachel. You're very talented, though I guess you're already well-aware of that fact," she paused for moment, noting her amused expression. "Even if you do lose your voice, not that I'm saying you will, it's not exactly the end of the world right? I'm sure you have other gifts just waiting to be discovered. I think that your confidence, your drive to succeed alone is enough to put you above the rest."

Rachel leaned across the table and placed a hand on top of hers. She didn't pull back, as she would've normally done. Though unconventional, she must admit that her therapy sessions with Sue have been rather effective in controlling her phobia. "Thank you Miss Pillsbury," the glee-clubber expressed her gratitude, giving her hand a light squeeze as she gave her a smile.

Emma promptly returned the gesture, which lingered long after Rachel left. That feeling of satisfaction you get when you know you've made someone's day–this was one of the reasons why she chose to become a guidance counselor in the first place.

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**I'm hoping that I did Rachel justice. So anyways, I chose to go down that familiar 'dentist asks Emma to dinner' route. It's not going to be a typical dinner setting, though. ;D  
**

**Now before I move on with this, I'd just like to warn you that I'm not exactly the best updater out there. I don't have that much time in my hands right now, but I'll try my best to update as soon as I can. Reviews motivate me btw. *hint hint***


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: In response to some reviews, I'd just like to clarify that I'm not that huge of a Carl fan either. But I think that his presence would only make Emma realize how deeply she loves Will. I see him as this guy who seems to be like the perfect match for her- except that he isn't exactly one Will Schuester. He'll be a catalyst to their feelings, so to speak. And above all, it'll be fun to see jealous!Will. Don't you agree?**

**For those who still want some wemma though, don't fret! I have some stuff planned out for the later chapters. In fact, the end of this chapter is a prelude to one of them.  
**

**Special thanks to 4cherryblossoms btw for the help. I owe you one! :) **

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It didn't take long before the hour hand pointed to seven. Emma looked at herself in the mirror one last time, gleaming with pride over her improved sense of control. She still couldn't believe that she was able to resist putting on a new set of clothes for the evening. She didn't bother to, since they would only be going out for dinner anyway. There was no point in putting on her best outfit for something so mundane.

Howell could be arriving any second. She settled down on her couch as she waited in anticipation. A minute passed, then two. When six had gone by, she started to get worried. She knew that it was silly, but she couldn't help thinking that she got stood up. One thing her therapy hasn't helped her with so far was her fixation for timeliness.

Ironically, patience was also one of her virtues, so she waited a little longer. When she thought she couldn't take it anymore, she decided to call him up. She was about to reach for the phone when a knock from the door stopped her. Breathing a sigh of relief, she walked over and greeted the dentist. Unlike her, he was all dressed up for the occasion. It was actually her first time to see him without his trademark lab coat. "Hey Emma. You ready?"

"Let me just grab my purse." She took the object lying on the sofa, which Howell noticed was still covered with plastic. Curious, he proceeded inside, noting with amusement the many variants of Lysol products set on the table and the literal spotlessness of the place. It would've sparkled, if it were possible. "I thought you weren't going to come."

"One thing you need to know about me? I'm always fashionably late," he informed her, leaning forward with a toothy grin.

As he led her out her apartment, he decided to take a risk by casually placing his hand on her back. She froze upon contact- she wasn't used to anyone touching her like this. He must have felt her uneasiness, as he quickly pulled away.

Howell drove a black sedan which Emma recognized as one of the more expensive models. It was the car that was usually parked beside the garden outside his office. She couldn't resist making a comment about how he could manage to maintain it despite apparently having a tight budget. "Keeping this in good condition must set you back a lot," she remarked as he guided her inside the vehicle, surprised at her bluntness.

He knew exactly where she was going. "I used to gamble a lot," he admitted just as bluntly. He saw no point in beating around the bush. She stared at him, as though prompting him to continue. "Used to, okay? It was one of those darker times in my life. But I'm proud to tell you that I've completely recovered," he then clarified after realizing the implications of what he had said.

"Good for you, then," Emma responded, opting not to pry any further.

The car ride was marked with some lighthearted conversations about nothing in particular. All was well until Emma's gaze shifted outside. "This isn't the way downtown," she told him with slight panic in her tone. She was too absorbed in their exchange to notice that she wasn't in familiar ground anymore.

"I know," he simply said, not taking his eyes off the road.

His answer only aggravated her anxiety. Although she was scared, she found it best to just trust him. There might be a bistro somewhere outside town that she didn't know about or something. The rest of the trip was spent in silence as she tried to comfort herself with other similar thoughts.

"We're here," Howell finally broke the stillness as he put the car in reverse. They were in a residential area, outside an apartment building to be specific. Suddenly, it all became clear to her. Instead of taking her to a restaurant as she expected, he was going to cook them dinner instead! She could only laugh at her earlier assumptions.

It was only a matter of time before they finally reached his apartment. As the room bathe in light when he flicked on the switch, the first thing that caught her eye was the grand piano at the far end. He told her to sit down and relax while he prepared their meal, motioning towards his sofa set. She insisted that she could help him out in the kitchen, but he pressed otherwise. In the end, though, she managed to convince him to at least allow her to set the table.

"Would you like some cheese on yours?" he asked her as he held a block of cheese and a grater above her plate of spaghetti.

"No, don't put cheese!" she quickly exclaimed, grabbing his wrists and placing them on his side of the table. Howell was clearly surprised by her reaction. He blinked twice, obviously waiting for an explanation. She had to think fast. "I'm, uh, lactose intolerant."

She wasn't ready to tell him about the dairy farm incident just yet. He appeared to have bought her explanation, as he merely nodded, mumbled something that she didn't quite understand and got back to eating. For the next few minutes, the clattering of their silverware against the plates replaced the usual discussion over dinner.

"So, um, you play the piano?" she asked as she twirled another mouthful of spaghetti on her fork. She wanted to break the awkward air and it seemed like the perfect ice breaker.

He smiled as his vision sauntered over the instrument. "If that's what you call my fingers banging against the keys then yes, I do play," he answered, letting out a soft chuckle afterwards.

"Can I see?"

"Of course." He gestured towards her plate, which was still half-full. "But you have to finish your food first."

Emma laughed. "All right, mom," she joked as she picked up her spoon and fork and continued eating.

When the last strand of spaghetti was cleared, she excused herself before walking towards her bag which was resting on the couch. She was about to fish out her toothbrush when Howell, as though he had been reading her every thought, told her where the bathroom was. "Toothpaste is inside the medicine cabinet," he later added as she made her way through the hall.

His bathroom, like all other rooms in his apartment, was very well-kept. She could even smell the distinct scent of Ajax as she stepped inside. She opened the cabinet and as he said, a tube of toothpaste was there. It was placed in a bright orange mug with a cartoon drawing of a dentist and his patient. The caption at the bottom, which read "Sorry I need to spit again but looking at you makes me salivate," amused her in particular.

She squeezed out a pea-sized amount before closing the cabinet door. She heard his footsteps approaching as she brushed her teeth. He joined her soon enough, cleaning his pearly whites with a precision formed from years of practicing dental care.

As she listened to the sound of their toothbrushes against their teeth, she noticed that they were doing so at the exact same time. A glace at the mirror confirmed this. It felt weird, but she simply dismissed it as a mere coincidence. He must also be using the brushing technique as her, she figured.

After rinsing, Emma placed her toothbrush back inside her purse before walking over to the piano. Howell followed not long afterwards, taking a seat beside her in the stool in front of the instrument. Before she knew it, a familiar tune began to fill her ears. It was one of her favorites, this song that she listened to for countless nights when love seemed to avoid her.

_It's her hair and her eyes today  
That just simply take me away_

She watched his fingers dance flawlessly between the ivory keys, creating a melody that was simply beautiful. She let herself get drawn into the music, taking in each word and note. She even sang along with him in certain parts. But when they got to the chorus, things took a different turn.

'_Cause I love her with all that I am  
And my voice shakes along with my hands_

Emma's pulse quickened. He no doubt sang with a new level of conviction. She could feel the passion, the intensity in his voice. She shifted in her seat as she began to wonder if there was more to his song choice than what she thought.

'_Cause she's all that I see and she's all that I need  
And I'm out of my league once again_

Howell was looking straight at her when the last two lines escaped from his lips, as though he were saying them directly to her.

"I told you I suck," he then remarked with a chuckle, unaware of how shaken she was by his performance.

Emma couldn't disagree more. "Wow, Carl. You're really good!"

"And you have an amazing voice," he complimented her back, recalling her sweet soprano that complimented his baritone pitch.

"You're not so bad a singer yourself," she told him.

"I beg to differ," he promptly disagreed.

"What do you mean, your voice was good," Emma insisted.

Carl shook head slowly, his eyes set on the ivory keys. "But not good enough."

Emma was going to ask him to explain further when her cell phone began to ring. She excused herself as she stood up and took the call.

"Hello?"

"_God do I miss hearing your voice." _

Her eyes widened. She'd know that voice anywhere. "This isn't really, uhm, a good time Will."

"_It's a terrible time, I know. But I can't help it, baby. I need you with me right now."_

"Did you just call me- never mind. Is everything okay? You sound a little, uh, raspy."

He ignored her question. _"I screwed up big time. I'm sorry."_

"I know you are, Will," she replied after a slight pause, her voice dropping to a near whisper. Every second of their exchange was breaking her. She couldn't take it anymore. "I'll call you back later," she abruptly bade him goodbye, pushing on the end call button a little too hardly.

She was too caught up in their talk to notice that Howell was already standing right behind her. "Was that Will?" he asked, overhearing a bit of their conversation.

"Yeah," she muttered weakly.

He stared at her, concern written on his features. "You seem a little tense. Is something wrong?"

"Oh, no, no. Everything's perfectly fine," she denied, shaking her head furiously. Howell simply shrugged it off.

She stayed in his place around an hour longer before calling it a night. He joined her as she made her way out of the building. "You sure you don't want me to drive you home?" he offered her again, his keys still in hand.

"No, it's ok. You've done too much for me already. I'll just get a cab."

Although he was still reluctant, he had no choice but to agree. "Let me know when you get home all right?"

"Will do," she promised him. He kept her company until she finally boarded one.

Save for the slight discomfort she felt for being inside that microbe haven, the ride home was pretty much uneventful- that is, until her gaze shifted outside. There, parked on the side of the road with the blinkers on, was Will's car. Beside it was the owner himself, who appeared to be reasoning with a police officer. The man in uniform didn't look too happy.

"Um, excuse me. You can drop me off over there," she quickly told the driver, pointing in their direction.

Emma sighed as she stepped off the vehicle. It was going to be a long, long night.

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**Oh no! What could Will have done to get in trouble with the law?**** Stay tuned for the next chapter to find out! :D  
Feedback is forever loved~  
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	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry for the delay everyone. I wasn't able to meet my 'one-update-every-two-weeks' deadline because of my busy schedule (read midterms season) and some personal reasons as well. Fourth chapter's up now though so YAY!**

**Thanks again to the awesomely awesome 4cherryblossoms for, er, beta-ing! I'd also like to credit her friend as well, for providing me with inspiration for Will's first line in this chapter. Apparently, it's copyrighted. XDD**

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Emma was still a good distance away from the scene and yet she could already hear Will's unusually loud voice. "I told you, I'm not drunk! I am mentally stable!"

His statement confirmed her suspicions. She stopped mid-step as she realized the implications of what she was about to get into. This was the law that she was going to be up against. The gravity of the situation was giving her second thoughts. But there was no backing out now, since the cab had already left and given the lateness of the hour, there won't be any other ones passing by soon. That, and the glee coach also noticed her presence. "Oh, look Tinkerbell. It's Bambi," she heard him tell the plump man in uniform before waving his hands excitedly. The officer only rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath as they watched her walk towards them.

"What seems to be the problem Officer, uh…," she paused, glancing down at the tag fastened on his chest and reading what was written. "…Blart?" Though the answer was rather obvious, she still felt compelled to ask this.

Instead of answering her, he turned towards Will, his thumb pointing in her direction. "Who's this, your girlfriend?"

Will laughed, his hands clutching his sides. "Bambi's a dude. You can't have a guy girlfriend y'know," he corrected him after he had regained his composure. His expression then changed into a more serious one as he managed to get a good look at her. "Though I'd have to say, he does look rather pretty right now, with his dress and make-up and all." He paused again, his admiration shifting to alarm when he reached a rather disturbing conclusion. "Oh God. Bambi, are you gay?"

Blart faced Emma again. "This guy here's been going twenty at a forty miles per hour zone," he finally informed her.

They looked at him for a moment. He was pacing up and down the sidewalk, murmuring to himself. "Bambi's gay. My life is a lie. All lies." was all that they could make out of his babbling.

"Oh yeah and he's drunk too," Blart quickly added, noting his senseless talking.

Will's brows furrowed when he overheard his observation. "How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not drunk! Geez," he denied before pacing again.

"What's the penalty for, uh, driving under the influence?" Emma asked the officer.

"Well since this is his first time, he has two choices. He can either spend the next five days doing jail time or pay the fine," he told her, holding two of his fingers up as he explained it to her.

With the regionals coming up in a few weeks, Will couldn't afford to miss a day of practice with the kids. Paying the fine was his only option. She knew that it wouldn't come cheap, so she felt a little hesitant when she asked how much it was.

"The fine? It depends, actually. Anywhere from $250-$1000, depending on how much alcohol he has consumed," Blart answered her in the same neutral tone.

Emma stared at him for a moment, as though she was still letting his words sink in. She then pulled out her wallet from her purse, grabbed a bundle of hundreds out and handed it to him. It was money she'd been saving up for a rainy day and this, to her, was one of those days. "Is this enough?"

Blart took the wad of bills and counted them. It was 500 dollars flat. He looked at her, clearly surprised by her actions. "Wow, you're paying it for him? That's very sweet. I wish my girlfriend Amy would do that for me too," he admitted to her, shifting his gaze down to the pavement. Realizing what he had just said, he found it necessary to apologize. "I'm sorry about that. That was very unprofessional of me."

"No, no. It's okay," she assured him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "And I'm sure she will. You seem like a good man." She wanted to clarify that she wasn't, as he assumed, Will's girlfriend, but she somehow couldn't bring herself to say it out loud.

"Thank you." He smiled and she promptly returned the gesture. "You know what, here. I'll give you $200 back. Just don't tell anyone all right? I wouldn't want to get in trouble with the guys," he said, handing a portion of the wad of cash back to her.

"You're only doing your job Officer Blart. Take it," she quickly declined.

"Please, I insist," he pressed, brining it even closer to her. He had a feeling that she was going to turn down his offer again, so he decided to shift to a different approach. "If you don't accept, I'm going to have to arrest both of you," he threatened, a grin drawn on his lips. The trick always worked and this time was no exception, as Emma grabbed the cash from his hands in a heartbeat.

"That's better." He chuckled before reaching into his motorcycle's compartment. "Here's the brochure for the AA by the way. He can just drop us a line regarding his preferred schedule for the mandatory rehabilitation session."

Emma took the brochure and placed it inside her purse. "Will tell him," she promised him as she watched him board his vehicle.

"Have a safe trip!" he called out to the two as he sped off.

She waved goodbye to the officer before turning her attention back to Will, who was busy picking a fight with a lamp post. She walked over to him and tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

He turned towards her and, noting Blart's disappearance, began to look around for any sign of the officer. He couldn't find any, even after checking behind the post he'd been kicking earlier twice, so he figured that she might know where he was. "Oh hey Bambi. Where'd Tinkerbell go?"

It took Emma a while before she remembered who he was referring to. "He, uh, left," she told him after a moment of thought.

"Where'd Tinkerbell go?" Will repeated his question, which remained to be unanswered.

"Back to fairyland, I guess," she replied, finding it best to just go along with the flow. He seemed to be satisfied by her answer, as he merely nodded. "And it's about time you got home too."

His features lit up instantly, making her smile a little. He looked like a nine-year-old in a candy store. "To the forest with other talking animals like you? All right!" he expressed his agreement, raising his fist up in the air. "How are we going to get there? Are we going to ride on your magic carpet?"

She led him towards his beat-up sedan. "Sorry, but it's down at the carpet repair shop for maintenance. We can use your car, though."

He shook his head slowly, his expression amused. "But a deer can't drive. You have hooves," he reasoned, laughing his head off afterwards.

"Well guess what Will? They can," Emma differed, her tone challenging.

"No way," he stood by his words. She only responded with a grin as she guided him inside the passenger seat. She then took her place on the driver's side and finding the keys still in the ignition, started the engine and took off into the road. She turned towards him for a moment, amused at the disbelief that had surfaced in his features. "No way!"

"Told you," she replied smugly. She found it silly, but she couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment in disproving a drunken man's argument.

"Whoa. So you're actually a gay, car-driving deer? Talk about false knowledge," he remarked with amazement. His smile grew wide as an idea hit him. "Since you proved me wrong, I'm going to get you something special Bambi. What do you want?"

"I don't know," Emma said, not taking her eyes off the road.

"Come on, there has to be something. What do deers eat? Hay? Carrots? Caviar?" he insisted, enumerating a number of food items that grew more and more random by the minute. It was cute in the beginning but soon enough Emma started to get rather annoyed. When he suggested doorknobs, she knew she had had enough.

"Okay, you want to know what I want? I want you to get me a star," she finally answered him, rather impulsively at that.

"A star?" he repeated, unsure if he heard her right.

"Yes, a star. But not just any star. I want a periwinkle one and I want you to place it inside a bottle. Yeah, that's it," she clarified. The idea wasn't as random as it seemed to be. Her mother used to tell her that during her fifth birthday, she wished for a periwinkle star in a bottle. Apparently, she even threw a fit when she found out that they weren't able to get her one.

Will grew silent for a moment. "Wow. That's pretty demanding," was all he could say, his words slurring a bit. He then turned towards her with a look so intense that Emma's heart skipped a beat. "But sure, even though I don't see what a woodland creature would want with a heavenly body. If it's a star you want then it's a star you'll get. I promise."

Emma nodded. "Okay, Will. I'll wait for it."

The rest of the trip was spent in silence. Emma only had the courage to look at him again when they reached a stoplight. It turns out that the reason why he suddenly turned quiet was that he had fallen asleep. His head was slumped against the window, the light from the street lamp overhead illuminating his features with a mesmerizing glow. A smile crept up her face as she watched his shoulders move up and down in a steady rhythm. He looked so peaceful, so vulnerable. Looking at him at that state almost made her forget about his gallivanting.

The incessant honking of the car behind them brought her back to her senses. She sighed before shifting the gears back to drive.

It didn't take long before they reached Will's apartment. This was when reality hit her- since Will was fast asleep, he obviously wouldn't be able to get back up on his own. She didn't know how exactly she did it, but she somehow managed to carry the man up to the fifth floor without any untoward incidents, save for the time when she took too big a step and almost tumbled down to the ground with him. Thankfully, she regained her balance, though in doing so the two of them ended up in a rather awkward position.

Just like before, his keys were still hidden under the welcome mat on his doorstep. She brought him inside and put him down on his bed, covering him with a blanket and dimming the lights to ensure a good night's sleep. After making sure that he was comfortably settled in, she took one last look at him before turning on her heel to leave. However, she was stopped in her tracks when she thought she heard him say her name. She was going to dismiss it as a product of her imagination when she heard it again, clearly this time.

"Emma," he repeated, as though he sensed her doubtfulness. This was impossible of course, as he was still fast asleep. She froze when he grabbed her arm in a firm yet gentle grip. "Stay, please. I need you. Don't leave me."

His tone sounded so genuine, so desperate. Emma couldn't resist him anymore. Without a word she obliged to his request, moving towards the other side of the bed and taking her place right beside him. "I love you," he told her softly when she settled in, snuggling against what he thought was his pillow.

She didn't realize just how tired she was until the moment her body came into contact with the soft, inviting bed and took her off to slumber land in a matter of seconds.

When Will woke up that morning, he felt weird. His head throbbed, his pillow smelled of women's perfume and he had a strange urge to look for a periwinkle star and place it in a bottle. His confusion only grew when his vision shifted to his bedside drawer, where a pack of aspirin, a brochure and a baby monitor lay.

The events of the previous night only came back to him after he noticed a post-it attached behind the container of aspirin. Written in a neat scrawl that was undeniably Emma's, it read:_ Left some breakfast on the table. Used some of your toothpaste by the way. Take care._ All he understood from that was 'I still love you, Will.'

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**How Will found out about the baby monitors Sue placed in his apartment remains to be unresolved, so I added here a possible answer to that. Cookies for those who know where I got the officer's and his girlfriend's name. :))**

**Next chapter revolves around Dream On. What if Bryan Ryan made a little stopover to Emma's office when he dropped by the school? And how is Carl doing as McKinley's new dentist? Read on to find out.**

**Review and I'll love you to bits. **


	5. Chapter 5

**It's September! *throws confetti around* Only a few weeks time left before glee day so YAY! LOL, that rhymes. Though I've got to admit I'm not exactly excited about seeing Charice among the cast. There's no doubt that she's an amazing singer but it's her acting that bothers me. I'm in no position to judge her yet though, as she may prove me wrong when the premier comes. But other than that, I'm all set for season two. :D**

**In honor of Jane Lynch's Emmy win, I decided to include here one of the Sue therapy sessions that I originally planned for a later chapter. Writing the cheerio coach made my brain hurt like hell, so I hope I did her justice.**

**Last but not the least, merci to my jaymamazing beta, 4cherryblossoms!**

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Despite his hangover, Will still opted to go to work that day, though he got there an hour and a half late of his usual arrival time of 8:30 sharp. He'd popped a few tablets of aspirin before leaving his apartment but his feeling of lightheadedness continued to linger.  
Surprisingly, his condition didn't seem to affect his teaching. He was able to lead the discussion fairly well, at least in his perspective. Before he knew it, the day was almost over. As he walked out into the halls, all that was left unchecked on his to-do-list for the day was glee practice, which was to begin in exactly fifteen minutes. Before proceeding to the choir room though, he had some business to take care of along the way.

Emma did not need to take her eyes off the piece of paper she had been writing on to know who it was that stood at her office's doorstep. There was only one person who knocks thrice on the glass window before entering.

"If you came here to offer back the fine I paid, then I'm sorry to tell you that I won't accept it," she told him, not looking up. "Or any other form of payment aside from cash for that matter," she added before he could even respond.

"I know," he simply said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. Not waiting for an invitation, he took a seat on one of the chairs opposite her.

"What brings you here, then?" she asked, grabbing the stack of papers in front of her and straightening up the edges. It was truly a challenge to pretend that she didn't care about him.

"I just wanted to say thanks for the night," he said, undaunted by her coldness. When he saw her look up at him in surprise, he wondered what was it in his statement that made her react that way. It didn't take much thought to figure it out. "I mean last night! Thanks for everything that you've done for me last night."

For a moment, a small smile surfaced on Emma's features. It wasn't everyday that the guy gave in to a Freudian slip, after all. Will noticed this and instantly felt happy. He hadn't realized how much he missed seeing her smile until then.

"No problem Will. I would've done the same thing for anyone," she assured him, fastening back her somber expression.

"Anyone?" he snapped, causing her to look away again. He wanted to retract this single word that shattered what little progress he had on convincing her that she was the only thing missing in his life, if there was even any. But it was too late to do so. All he could do was to wait anxiously for her response.

Emma didn't know what to say. He was right. She wouldn't have done what she did for him to just anybody. "So, uh, one of the school board members dropped by here earlier before you came," she broke the tension, opting not to answer his question.

"Bryan Ryan?" he blurted out, forgetting that his mere mention of the man's name was a dead giveaway of the fact that he had been watching the two when he passed by earlier.

"You know him?" she answered him back with another question.

"Yeah. We went to high school here together. He's two years older though," he explained, keeping his tone neutral as to not arouse suspicion. Emma nodded as she took in this new information about him. "You two aren't, you know…" he then trailed off, unable to resist the urge to ask but unsure of how exactly he was going to do so. The guy _was_ sitting casually on her desk with a grin drawn on his lips a few hours ago. He thought that it was natural to assume that something must be going on between the two. He didn't need to finish his sentence for her to know where he was going at.

"He's married," came the blunt response.

"Oh. I, I didn't know. I'm really sorry for asking, Emma," he quickly apologized while adding another point to his stupid move score sheet.

Having clearly made an honest mistake, she took his apology as quickly as he gave it. "He, uhm, told me that he was planning on cutting the art programs, glee in particular," she then informed him as gently as she could. Apparently, she wasn't gentle enough as Will abruptly stood up, startling her.

"What? How could he do that? He was part of the club since his freshman year!" he cried out in disbelief, throwing his arms up in the air.

"He didn't tell me why," she mumbled, trying to regain her calm.

Will paced across the room, his brows furrowed, his arms crossed on his chest and his head shaking slowly every few seconds. "It must have been Sue. It always is," he concluded knowingly. "I wonder what she's up to this time."

"It's not wise to jump into conclusions Will," she warned.

"Come on, Emma. This has Sue written all over it!" he pressed in the same livid tone. "Think about it. Who else would want the club disbanded right before regionals?"

She didn't expect him to take the news with open arms but she didn't expect him to take it that hard either. It was her first time to see him in such an intense state and her shock, particularly evident in her widened eyes, showed. "I don't think it was her this time around," she differed in a manner completely opposite of his. He stopped pacing and looked at her, his gaze softening. She took this as a sign to continue. "I told him not to do it."

"And what did he say?" he asked weakly, unsure if he wanted to know or not.

"He said he'll see," she told him, recalling her earlier conversation with the person in question. "Look Will. I'm against this as much as you are but since either of us have any power over him, all we can do is just hope for the best," she then clarified, keeping an optimistic yet practical view on the matter.

Will chuckled bitterly. "You're right. I'm thinking into this way too much," he remarked.

"You're only concerned about the kids, Will. I see nothing wrong with that," Emma justified his burst of anger. He only stared at her, his gaze communicating all his sentiments. She swore that if he didn't look away soon, her heart would leap off her chest.

"Well I better go. You seem really busy with all your papers and stuff," he finally excused himself, gesturing towards the stacks of papers that filled half of her desk.

"Yeah. It's, uh, college application time again. Lots of recommendation forms to fill out," she explained, watching him leave before turning her attention back to her work.

As Will repeated what he recalled of their exchange in his mind, he almost forgot about the glee practice scheduled for that day. He quickened his pace after a brief glance at his wrist watch told him that he had barely five minutes left to get to the choir room in time. He was halfway there when a familiar figure walking among the students came into view.

"Doctor Howell?" he asked the man, who was going in the opposite direction.

"Will! Hi. So glad I finally came across you here," Howell greeted, flashing his perfect set of pearly whites, which Will promptly returned with an equally bright smile of his own.

"What brought you to this side of town? Was there an oral health talk or something?"

"Didn't Emma mention it to you? I work part time here now," Howell told him.

"Oh, really? That's…that's great!" Will reached out and shook his hand to congratulate him. "Since when?"

"Yesterday," he replied.

"Well, me and Emma, we don't really, uh, see each other much these days. We're both busy with school and the kids and stuff you know?" Will lied. Not that it was a total lie. Since the break room fiasco, their interaction had been rather limited. And busy they truly were, what with the regionals and SAT coming in a few weeks.

"I completely understand Will. These kids can be quite a handful. There had been at least three of them who came into my office today with a tooth or two knocked out. They wouldn't tell me what happened, though one mentioned something about this Amazio person," Howell agreed, recounting his experience that day to back it up.

"It's Azimio," Will corrected him. "He's one of the football players."

Howell laughed. "Well that explains it. Football players beating up kids for their lunch money? Looks like high school is still the same as always," he remarked in amusement.

"Yeah, except that they have Lord Google and Sir Wikipedia at their disposal," Will countered, earning from the dentist another round of laughter.

"True, true. Back in the days, homework that required research was bound to get any teacher up a student's hate list," he recalled, nostalgia settling in.

This statement began a sharing of a few stories about the good old days between the two. It was abruptly put to a close, however, when Will took another look at his watch.

"Well, I better go. I still have glee rehearsals to attend to," he excused himself. "Hope we bump into each other again soon."

"Glee as in show choir?" Howell asked as Will was about turn on his heel, not sure if he heard him right.

"Correct. I'm the glee club moderator," Will proudly informed him.

Howell's face lit up. "You're the man behind New Directions?"

"You actually know about show choir and the McKinley glee club?" Will asked in an odd mix of disbelief and delight.

"And why shouldn't I? I may not look like it but I live for show choir." Howell paused, noting Will's amazed expression. "In fact, I remember that brunette back in Sectionals. Her rendition of Don't Rain on my Parade was simply amazing, maybe even better than Streisand herself. The group performance was nice too, even if it did seem a little unrehearsed."

"That's because it was," Will confirmed. He knew that Howell was curious about what happened but time didn't allow him to tell the story of the mattress and the leaked set list. "Long story. I wasn't able to see it for myself, unfortunately. But the kids did a surprise performance for me when they came back to make up for my absence so it's all good."

"That's good to hear. Who took your place then?" Howell asked, curious.

"Lucky for me, Emma volunteered to take the kids there at the last minute," Will replied, reminding him of how much she was willing to give up just for him.

"That's really nice of her. You're very lucky to have a friend like her around," Howell remarked, to which Will only nodded in response.

Another look at his watch revealed that he was already late for practice. Will was about to bid goodbye when Howell spoke up. "Sorry if this seems like an odd request but can I come with you? My shift just ended anyway. If you don't mind, of course. I wouldn't want to get in the way or anything."

"No, no. It's ok. I'm sure the kids wouldn't mind a fan dropping by," he assured him.

Howell expressed his gratitude as they walked towards the choir room, which was at the end of the hall.

"Wow, doc. I never would've guessed that you had a musical dimension to you," Will couldn't help but comment.

Howell chuckled. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Will. A lot of things," he said as they entered the room where the glee kids await.

Back in Emma's office, the guidance counselor decided to absorb herself into her work to keep her earlier conversation with Will from crossing her mind. She was doing well until a figure garbed in trademark red and white came inside.

"Hi, uh, Sue," Emma greeted, the fear in her voice making the cheerleading coach swell with pride.

"Grab your bag and whatever monster-sized cleaning product your flimsy arms can carry Irma. You and I are going out for dinner tonight," she informed her, ignoring her greeting.

Emma pointed at her watch. "But it's only 4:00."

"Four, six. Tomato, to-mah-to," came the droll response.

Emma raised a brow, confused at the connection between the two. "But I'm still-"

"Chop-chop Eidelweiss. Your mental illness isn't going to wait," she cut Emma off with another witty remark before throwing in her direction a plastic bottle that she seemed to have pulled out of nowhere. To her surprise, she caught it right in the middle. "Who knew being plagued with mental illness actually had some benefits?"

Emma stared at the bottle she was now holding, squinting as she read the label. She then turned it around, the contents making a clanking sound as they hit the sides of the container. "What's this?" she asked, holding the object up.

"In case you forgot how to read, it says Prozac. It's an anti-anxiety drug. That way you won't have to be on the verge of cardiac arrest every time a drop of rain falls on you," Sue answered her derisively.

Knowing Sue, there was just no way she could say no without experiencing some sort of anger-driven act of vengeance from the said person. She decided that it was best to comply. "I don't think you're allowed to prescribe drugs," Emma told her as she straightened her papers for the nth time.

"What a libelous accusation Elmo. I have a degree in clinical psychology!" Sue defended.

"Yes, but an online degree," Emma reminded her.

"I got the highest GPA in getyourdegree. c o m!" Sue retorted, far from willing to give up her cause.

"There were only five test takers at that time," Emma argued, not letting her guard down either.

Sue paused for a moment, her gaze narrowing as she eyed her. "That's still one more degree than what you have under your ridiculous, north-bordering belt," she reasoned, pointing at the turquoise-hued band around her waist. Her expression then turned into an incredulous one as she noticed Emma's immediate response to her statement. "Did you just roll your eyes at me? Oh yes you did. These retinas don't lie." She grinned. "I never thought that one day I'd see one Sue Sylvester in someone like you. Outstanding Eloise." She walked over to her and, much to her disapproval, patted her shoulder a few times.

Emma faked a smile but the second Sue turned away and told her to meet her in the parking lot in five minutes, a frown quickly took its place. She sighed. It was going to be another long night.

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**This may not have been the scene involving Bryan Ryan you guys expected, so I'm sorry if that's the case. I wanted to include him directly but I can't seem to write him convincingly, so I scrapped it. Hope the Sue scene made up for it though.**

**How will the glee kids react to their lab-coat clad fan? What exactly is Sue's plan for the week's therapy session****? Chapter 6 holds the answers. **

**Review pretty please? 8D**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry again for the late update everyone. It's been busy busy busy this month, with finals just around the corner. I made this chapter a little longer than usual to make up for it, though. This is my first time to write the glee-clubbers as an ensemble, so I'm praying that I did this right. **

**So anyways, I'm sure that you guys have seen the sneak preview of dentist dude by now. The scene was just way awkward in my opinion and so far, I'm still okay with Carl. They were cute in a way, I'd give them that, but I don't see in them the same phenomenal chemistry that wemma has. I just can't wait to see their love triangle unfold. Come on, Tuesday! Get here faster!**

**Oh, and thanks to the awesome 4cherryblossoms for beta-ing…again. Haha. But seriously, you've been a great help. :)) **

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When Will and Howell arrived at the choir room, the glee kids had already settled down, chatting animatedly among themselves as they waited for their practice to begin. Noting his presence, the chatter gradually died down until all that could be heard were the two adult's footfalls.

"Hey guys. Sorry I'm late. I had some, uh, business to take care of," Will told them as they made their way towards the center of the room.

"Mister Schue, there's a beakless penguin behind you," Brittany warned him, her finger pointing at Howell who was trailing behind.

Will's brows furrowed as he thought about why she referred to the dentist as such. After taking a good look at the guy, he concluded that it must have been because of his white coat and black undershirt get-up, which could indeed remind someone of a penguin- one whose colors have been inverted anyway. "I'm positive that the figure beside me is no Arctic creature Brittany. Say hello to Doctor Howell everyone! He may not look like it, but he's one of our biggest fans," he said eagerly, gesturing towards Howell who made a small wave. Unfortunately for him, the kids weren't as eager as he expected them to be.

"We actually have fans?" Santana quipped, eyeing the dentist derisively.

"Only fifteen people liked our fan page on Facebook. The twelve of us, Mister Schue, Miss P and Jacob Ben Israel with multiple accounts," Kurt said, providing evidence to back up the cheerleader's sardonic tone.

"The anti-glee page has like, 1076 likes," Tina added for comparison.

"It's 2011 likes as of lunch time. I checked it on my phone earlier," Artie was quick to correct her.

Everyone's eyes turned towards Brittany when she raised her hand. "I like chickens and frozen yogurt," she said flatly. They stared at her for a moment before they turned their attention back to Howell.

"Everything they said, it's true," Puck broke the awkward air.

"Are you another spy for Vocal Adrenaline?" Quinn asked, obviously referring to Jesse who was not around that day.

Aside from earning a dirty look from Rachel, Quinn's remark also sparked an exchange of theories among the glee kids. Ideas were thrown back and forth in hushed voices that were too soft to be heard by the two adults, who could do nothing but look as the kids expressed their sentiments. A semblance of order was regained when Rachel stood up and took a few steps forward.

"While everybody else is busy absorbing their shock, I'd like to welcome you here in behalf of all the members of the McKinley High glee club Doctor Howell. It's good to know that there are still people out there who can appreciate genuine talent such as ours," she began, shooting a disapproving look to no one in particular before offering her warmest smile and a firm handshake to the dentist. Quinn and Santana rolled their eyes as she went back to her seat, while Kurt and Mercedes exchanged glances.

"Yeah. Sorry about that Doctor Howell. I guess we're just not used to, you know, having fans who aren't related to us and all," Finn reasoned, to which Matt and Mike nodded in agreement.

"It's all right, uhm-"

"Rachel. I'm Rachel Berry," she cut him off, knowing exactly where he was going. She then looked at Finn, prompting him wordlessly to introduce himself as well. Unfortunately, he didn't get the message - "What, is there something on my face?" – and Rachel had no choice but to get a little physical.

"I'm Finn," he blurted out after Rachel nudged him rather sharply in the ribs with her elbow.

"Ok then, thank you Finn, Rachel, and everybody else. I'm really sorry for dropping in like this so suddenly, but I simply can't pass up the chance to see my favorite musical act up close," Howell explained to them. By now, the group's doubts had more or less disappeared.

"Hold up, you're Doctor Howell right?" Mercedes clarified.

He glanced at the name sewn in dark blue letters on his lab coat. "That's what it says here," he replied, grinning.

"Would you happen to be Doctor Carl Howell?"

"Why yes, I am." He studied the teenager's face more closely. "Are you an old patient of mine or something? You seem oddly familiar."

"No, but I think we might've seen each other before. I'm Doctor Jones' daughter," Mercedes gladly informed him.

"Mercedes?" he asked, hoping that the name that had popped up in his mind was correct.

"That'd be the name, doc. My dad always mentions your name whenever he talks about work," she told him, much to his delight.

"Pete never told me that you're all grown up already. Last time I saw you was during your seventh birthday, I think." Howell flashed her one of his impeccable smiles. "Glad that I've finally been able to see you again after all those years."

"Me too doc," Mercedes agreed, returning the gesture.

"Ok, now that we're all settled, how about a little song number from our special guest today?" Will started the session with a request, causing the glee kids to start chanting.

"I'd really rather not," Howell politely declined.

"Come on doc. Show us what you've got," Will insisted.

"This wasn't part of the deal, Will," Howell reminded him jokingly, to which he only responded with a laugh.

The chanting grew louder. "Sing! Sing!"

"All right, all right!" He finally gave in. "But don't blame me if your ears start bleeding."

He walked over to the piano, where Brad was in his usual position by the bench. "Do I even need to mention what I want to sing?"

The pianist smiled, nodding knowingly before giving a signal to the other musicians. It didn't take long before a familiar tune began to fill the room.

_When I was younger, just a bad little kid,_

_My mama noticed funny things I did,_

_Like shootin' puppies with a B B gun_

_I'd poison guppies, and when I was done_

_I'd find a pussycat and bash in its head_

_That's when my mama said_

Howell walked towards the kids, who gamely sang the next line of lyrics. They leaned their bodies forward, their faces marked with mock distress. _What did she say?_

He answered their question in his signature baritone.

_She said, "My boy, I think someday_

_You'll find a way_

_To make your natural tendencies pay_

_You'll be a dentist_

_You have a talent for causin' things pain_

_Son, be a dentist_

_People will pay you to be inhumane_

_Your temperament's wrong for the priesthood_

_And teaching would suit you still less_

_Son, be a dentist_

_You'll be a success_

He motioned for them to stand up, which they quickly did, with the exception of Kurt and Artie, the latter of which was wheeled by Tina towards the rest of the group who had formed a semi-circle around the dentist. Kurt chose to stay in his seat in the back, his legs crossed and his expression unimpressed as he watched his fellow glee-clubbers sing the next few lines.

_Here he is, folks the leader of the plaque! _Rachel exclaimed.

_Watch him suck up that gas, _Quinn belted.

_Oh, my god! _Brittany cried out.

_He's a dentist and he'll never ever be any good, _Finn crooned.

_Who wants their teeth done by the Marquis de Sade? _Artie asked.

Howell sauntered towards Kurt, who remained glued to his seat. Undaunted by his seeming lack of interest, he placed a hand on his shoulder, much to Kurt's disapproval. Puck threw in Howell's direction two pens he got from a container on top of the piano. He caught it effortlessly. He pretended that it was a dental clamp, making jerking motions as though he were pulling a tooth from Kurt's frowning mouth.

_Oh that hurts! I'm not numb, _Kurt mumbled after heaving a sigh. He had no choice but to go along.

_Oh, shut up. Open wide. here I come!_ _I am your dentist_. Howell shook his head, raising the object in his hand as high as he could. The metallic casing of the pens glistened as the light overhead bounced against it.

_Goodness gracious, _Kurt went along.

_And I enjoy the career that I picked, _Howell continued.

_Really love it, _Mercedes, Rachel and Santana chorused.

Howell pointed to himself. _I am your dentist._

_Fitting braces, _Kurt continued.

_And I get off on the pain I inflict, _Howell carried on with his part.

_Really love it, _Matt, Mike and Tina sang.

Howell pretended that the pens he still held were now a drill instead of a dental clamp. Seeing this, Will and some of the kids made drilling noises to accompany his motions. _I thrill when I drill a bicuspid._

_Bicuspid, _Finn, Artie and Puck repeated.

_It's swell though they tell me I'm maladjusted_

_And though it may cause my patients distress,_

_Somewhere, somewhere in heaven above me_

_I know, I know, that my mama's proud of me_

_Oh, mama_

_'Cause I'm a dentist and a success_

_Say ah!_

_Ah, _Kurt said flatly.

Howell's voice grew a little louder. _Say ah!_

_Ah, _Kurt repeated in the same flat tone.

_Say ah!_ Howell pressed, nearly screaming.

_Ah! _Kurt finally exclaimed in mock pain as the dentist pretended to have pulled out a tooth.

_Now spit!_

Heavy applause replaced the music once the last note was played. The guys wasted no time in giving Howell high-fives while the girls cheered him on. Even Kurt had to admit that he was good.

"Wow, that was amazing doc!" Will told him, clearly impressed.

Howell only smiled back, letting his perfect set of pearly whites do the talking. What was supposed to be time allotted for their practice ended up as a sort of mini-concert for their newly-discovered talent. When the session was over and all the kids had left, Howell did not waste time in letting Will know just how grateful he was.

"Have I told you how thankful I am?" Howell asked, smirking. He had taken a seat on the piano bench as he waited for the glee coach to finish up.

Will laughed. "Eight times. Nine if you count that one right there."

He watched Will as he straightened the edges of the sheet music that were intended to be used that day on the piano cover before proceeding towards one of the many shelves in the room.

"I always wanted to be part of a glee club," Howell admitted out of the blue.

"Weren't you?" Will asked, surprised. "But with that voice…," he then trailed off when he saw him shake his head from the corner of his eye.

"That isn't good enough," Howell finished for him. He took Will's lack of response as a prompt to explain. "We used to move a lot when I was a kid. I think I lived in every state at least once. Except Alaska, of course. Though you never know, maybe I just don't remember," he began, chuckling bitterly before continuing on. "So anyways, one time we were in Indiana. I was a high school freshman then, young and ambitious, ready to show the world what I have to offer. There was this new show choir group in our school, Aural Intensity-"

"We're competing against them in regionals," Will told him, cutting him off.

He nodded in acknowledgement. "I see. Well, I wanted to be part of that group. When I heard that auditions were being held, I wasted no time in readying myself. I practiced right after classes, before going to sleep, in the shower…anywhere I can. When the day came, I thought I did it. But no, I didn't. They told me I could be part of their internals department though. I ended up being their financial adviser." He paused for a second to catch his breath. "Did you know that I was the one who picked the name and motif of the group? I actually suggested oral and not aural. They thought that the wordplay was clever and a huge chunk of the budget ended up being used to pay for dental maintenance of the members. Before I moved here two years ago, I used to be their resident dentist." He paused once more as he noted the alarmed expression on Will's features. He knew exactly why he him such a look. "Don't worry Will. I assure you I'm no spy. I just, well, felt like sharing this for some reason I guess."

"No, no, it's okay. I'm actually glad that you trusted me enough to tell me all this." He went over to the piano and grabbed his bag. "To be honest, I never thought you were a spy doc."

He proceeded to the doorway, where he waited for Howell before locking the door to the room. "Ten times," Will said after the dentist expressed his gratitude yet again, earning from the fellow another bout of laughter.

While everyone in the choir room was having a grand time, the same cannot be said for Emma, who found herself at an Italian-themed restaurant downtown. The bistro was fairly new; in fact, it had its grand opening only two weeks earlier. She had always wanted to try out their already-famous spaghetti and meatballs- but definitely not with the Cheerios coach, who had just told her about their visit's real objective: assertiveness training.

"I don't think this is a very good idea, Sue," Emma differed, darting her gaze around nervously.

"That's what they said about the first airplane and look at what those naysayers' descendants are riding on their cross-continental flights to Timbuktu now," Sue told her, completely serious. "Go get 'em."

Emma gulped. There was just no arguing with Sue. It was either she did what she was ordered to do or her perfectly organized files get unsorted, or her office turns into a pigsty, or her tires get slashed... or whatever violent display of retaliation the woman would see fit. The first choice was clearly the best, no matter how much it was against her will. She swallowed again, clearing her throat of the lump that always surfaced whenever anxiety overwhelmed her. "Um, excuse me."

Upon hearing her call, one of the waiters quickly made his way over to their table. "What can I do for you ma'am?" he asked in a faux Italian accent.

"Too small," Emma mumbled.

"I'm sorry?" The waiter leaned a little closer.

"The serving. It's, uh, too small," Emma complained, gesturing towards the plate of spaghetti that the same waiter had brought onto their table minutes ago.

"That's the regular serving size ma'am. All meals served here in Caesar's Palace have a set serving size that I assure you is strictly followed by our staff," he explained simply, his words precise, as though this wasn't the first time he had said these words to someone. "If you have any more concerns, feel free to ask." Thinking that she was satisfied with his answer, he turned on his heel to attend to a newly-arrived customer. He was stopped in his tracks when Emma finally spoke up.

"Since when did regular equate to filling barely half the plate?" she challenged.

Panic instantly surfaced on the waiter's features. "I'm sorry ma'am, but can you keep your voice down? There are other people here with us today," he warned her, his forced politeness more visible than ever. "Look, I sincerely apologize if you find your order rather small but I am just a waiter and the serving size of food items is beyond my control. I can call our manager if you want."

Instead of calming her down, his statement only aggravated her more. Emma thought of herself as a person with high tolerance but even she had to admit that the guy's know-it-all air was getting on her nerves. "Oh, so you think you're better than me just because you're a man now don't you?" she asked him, standing up abruptly for effect. All eyes were drawn to the currently unfolding scene. The alarm on his face was priceless. "You men are all the same, acting all cool and smug and collected, thinking that sleeping and gallivanting with other women are as casual an act as breathing."

The latter part of her sentence confused the waiter. All he knew was that he needed to clarify himself before things got out of hand. "That's not what I-"

"Well let me tell you…," she interjected, pausing as she took a look at the nametag pinned on his chest. "…Veck. It's a free country damnit, and I'm free to say what I want, when I want. And right now, I want to complain about how we customers are being ripped off our hard-earned cash every time we step into this restaurant." She gestured towards the plate of spaghetti she had ordered. "Look at that. What do you see Veck?"

"Erm, spa-spaghetti?" Veck stammered.

"Wrong. What I see are lies, Veck. Lies!" She grabbed a menu from the table besides theirs, holding it up for everyone to see. "Does this look the same to you?" she asked, looking around as the people in the vicinity shook their heads either in answer or realization, she was not sure which. "You should know that I am not going to stand for this any longer. I'm through with consuming food items from an establishment that blatantly deceives its consumers. You have just lost yourself a customer. Arrivederci."

Emma slung her purse on her shoulders and hurriedly scurried out, with Sue trailing right behind her. Sue waved goodbye as they passed by the waiter, who had remained glued at his spot in front of their table since the beginning of the confrontation.

By the time they reached the parking lot, they noticed that the other customers had followed in their tracks. Judging by the number of people that had exited, it seemed that the restaurant would've been completely deserted by then. Guilt instantly tugged Emma' conscience. Sue, on the hand, couldn't be any happier. "Don't you just love the smell of fear and humiliation? Voltaire didn't see it coming," Sue said, giving her a pat on the back.

"It's Veck," Emma corrected.

"He can be Vanessa for all I care. Good job Ernie. Who'd expect that a fierce lioness thrived in that kitty-cat body of yours? I'm so proud of you I would cry…that is, if I hadn't gotten my tear ducts yanked out along with my ovaries." Sue leaned closer, her voice dropping low. "If you're lucky, this joint would be out of business in less than a week. Congratulations."

"Um, thanks. I think." Emma didn't know what else to say. She took her gaze back to the bistro to remove her feeling of awkwardness. This only caused her guilt to resurface. She was practically drowning in her thoughts about all the lives that she could have destroyed. She was brought back to her senses when she thought she heard Sue's engine roar. Turning around, she saw that the Cheerio's coach was already on her way out the parking lot. Acting on instinct, she tried to catch up with the speeding vehicle. This was no easy task, as her Mary Janes were clearly not made for running. "Wait up, Sue. Sue!" she called out as she ran, as though she could even hear her through that thick, bullet-proof glass.

The car stopped before reaching the road, giving Emma time to catch up. She caught her breath as the windows rolled down, revealing a very impatient looking Sue. "Thank God you stopped." Sue didn't say anything. She took this as a prompt to get in. She tried to open the back door but it was locked. She told her about it but she still got no response. "Wait. Aren't you going to give me a ride?" Sue shrugged. She then rolled her window back up and sped off into the road, leaving a very dazed Emma behind. "I guess not."

She stood there for a moment, watching Sue's car turn at the corner where it completely disappeared from sight. Not knowing what to do next, she looked around like a lost child who got separated from her parents. Her eyes were drawn to the grocery store on the other side of the road. Since she had nothing better to do, she decided to go inside. She was running low on peanut butter and grape juice, after all, so she saw no reason not to go.

A crisp air filled her lungs as she took her first steps inside the store; a crisp air that, she suddenly remembered, was also a microbe heaven. She froze at the thought of billions of disease-causing germs swimming all around her. She could've sworn that she saw one of those protozoans move behind a shelf of canned goods. Lucky for her, she regained her composure for some reason before she broke out into a heart attack. Her fear left as quickly as it came. She took this as a sign that her therapy was definitely working. The fact that she was able to hold the handle of the shopping basket without any form of protection for her immaculate hands was another indication of its success. It was only a partial victory, though, as she had the urge, which was most likely going to be heeded, to rub her hands with an insane amount of Purell.

Emma walked strategically from aisle to aisle just as she had always done, grabbing what she needed as she went along. The only exception was the dairy corner, which had not seen even her shadow since the incident. She was almost past the forbidden aisle when she thought she heard a very familiar voice coming from the area. She knew that she should just shrug it off and keep moving along, but her curiosity got the better of her. It was undeniable. That shrill pitch could only belong to one person.

"Hi, uh, April," she greeted her when their gazes met, pulling off the cheeriest smile she could muster while at the same time mentally berating herself about how this unwanted reunion that was about to happen could've been easily avoided if she followed what her gut was telling her.

* * *

**So I here added two of the many things I want to see on the show this season- Carl singing The Dentist Song from Little Shop of Horrors and some kind of mention about Mercedes' dad and him being dentist buddies. For all you crack shippers out there, there's a hint of Cart (Carl/Kurt) here too. Lolol. Emma singing Touch-a had recently been crossed out from the list, so only a hundred more to go. Or was that a thousand? 8D  
**

**Also if you've noticed, I can't help but add another Paul Blart: Mall Cop reference. You just gotta love that movie. And Jayma, of course.  
**

**Did Carl's revelation change the way Will saw him? And what is April doing back in Ohio? Find out in the next chapter.**

**Review pretty please? :D**


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